


You're So Good To Me

by ofqueer



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4704224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofqueer/pseuds/ofqueer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya has an episode and Gaby asks Napoleon to come help take care of Illya so Napoleon gives Illya a bath to help him relax and takes care of him ♡＾▽＾♡</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're So Good To Me

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first work in such a long time, so apologies if it's not up to par. i'm super rusty but i loved this ship too much to not write for it!!

This was easily the worse Napoleon had ever seen Illya. They’d been partners for close to three months, in that time the Russian had managed to keep his outburst somewhat under control. A couple flipped tables every few weeks - nothing Napoleon and Gaby couldn’t handle. 

Then tonight happened. Illya and Gaby’s hotel room was completely obliterated. Every table had been flipped, every couch turned over, broken glass covered the floor, and Illya stood there in the middle of the wreck, still shaking with rage. 

Gaby had rushed over to Napoleon’s room, explaining what had happened and asked if he could come help calm Illya down. 

“I’m worried,” she whispered, opening the door to their hotel room. 

Illya was still standing in the same spot he was when Gaby had left to get Napoleon. 

“Peril,” the smaller man said fondly, making his way through the disaster to Illya. The taller man was still trembling, fingers tapping against his leg furiously. He never looked at Napoleon. “Hey, Illya, look at me.” 

It was as if it took a moment for his brain to process the command, but his gaze landed on Napoleon’s face. His eyes looked bewildered, more so than Napoleon had ever seen. 

“What happened?” Napoleon asked.

Illya turned away. 

“Alright then. Will you come with me? Gaby is going to call room service to clean your room up.”

There was silence for a long time after that. Gaby and Napoleon exchanged looks; though she’d never admit it, she was scared. Not scared of Illya, rather scared for him. 

She carefully strode over to the Russian. She used one of her hands to turn his face to look at her as she spoke. “Illya, please, go with Napoleon for a while. You need to get some fresh air; take a walk, maybe?”

He looked at her, looked over to Napoleon before he started toward the door. The smaller man hurried behind the other, touching Gaby’s arm affectionately as he went. “I’ll look after him. Call whenever the mess has been cleaned up. You’re welcome over, too.”

The two strode to Napoleon’s room, the act rather careless, seeing as they were on a mission and their covers could easily be blown if seen together. Only now wasn’t a time that either cared. 

Napoleon opened the door to his room and Illya stepped inside. His body was still tense and he hadn’t spoken a word, not even a grunt of displeasure which was unusual.

“Let me make you a drink,” the smaller man offered, walking across the room to where the liquor was. 

“No,” Illya said.

Napoleon couldn’t help but turn on his heels to look at him. “Okay, then what do you want?” 

The Russian looked at him and answered, “To be left alone.”

“Ouch,” Napoleon uttered, pouring himself a drink. He downed it quickly. 

“Let me run you a hot bath.” 

“I am a grown man, I do not take hot baths.”

Napoleon rolled his eyes and disappeared into the bathroom anyway. Illya was stubborn and almost always took some sort of convincing, but Napoleon had nearly mastered the art of that. He turned the tub faucet on full blast. Within a few moments, steam was already starting to fill the room. Remembering he brought some of his own bath supplies, he wandered out of the bathroom and shuffled around in his bag to find his bubble bath and epsom salts. Pouring a bit of the salts in, he rolled up his sleeves before kneeling beside the tub. He leaned over the side and used his hand to stir up the water, helping the salt to dissolve faster. The water was so hot, his hand turned red immediately. Once the salts were dissolved, he added the liquid bubbles and watched them appear. 

Illya was standing in the doorway, watching him make the bath. “You cannot be serious, Cowboy,” he mocked. His accent got thicker when he was disgusted. 

The smaller man looked up at the other. “If you won’t take it, I sure will.”

“This is not the Russian way,” Illya pointed out, again, for more than the thousandth time since he’s known Napoleon.

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry the hotel doesn’t have a sauna, Peril. It’s ready though. If you want it, take it.” The American stood up from where he was kneeling beside the bath. 

Napoleon had moved passed Illya. When he heard the other man murmur “stay,” he turned back to see that the taller man was looking at him, his features had softened. His voice was soft, not nearly as harsh as it normally was. 

Unsure of what to say, Napoleon returned to his place beside the tub, only this time he put the toilet cover down and took a seat. Only a few seconds later, Illya had began to undress. There was a strange feeling creeping up the smaller man’s spine. 

Illya fumbled with his shirt buttons briefly before growing increasingly agitated by how long it was taking and literally just ripped the thing off him. 

Napoleon couldn’t help but snicker. “Hey, relax. Let me help you.” He offered moving forward, he waited for the other man to nod before he began to loosen his belt and unbutton his pants. “Think you can finish the job?” he questioned with a smirk. 

The Russian simply grunted and shoved his pants down to his ankles, kicking them off quickly. He paused, thumb resting on the band of underwear, looking curiously at Napoleon. “Ready Cowboy?” Before Napoleon even had a moment to look away, much less respond, he’d yanked his briefs down just as quickly as he had with his pants, kicking those away to rest with his other clothes. Meanwhile, the other was trying to discretely swallow. Napoleon let his gaze wander to the wallpaper beside him as Illya settles into the tub.

When he feels like enough time has passed, he looked over at Illya. “How is it?” he asked. 

“It’s… alright.” Illya replied rather reluctantly. He looked exhausted, like his destructional episode had finally reached him. He looked positively drained. Usually when he gets upset, they’re on a mission, keeping busy but now it’s as if his body knows it doesn’t have to produce all that adrenaline. 

Napoleon reached over and took a washcloth from one of the drawers. “May I?” he inquired, motioning to the tub. 

After a moment, Illya slowly nodded in reply to Napoleon’s question. A moment later, Napoleon was back on his knees beside the tub, dipping the cloth into the water before dragging it along Illya’s shoulders and back. Illya let his eyes flutter shut, humming softly in what was safe to assume to be approval, the noise sending tingles down the American’s spine. They sit in silence for a while; Illya’s eyes remained closed as Napoleon ran the wet cloth over various parts of the other’s body.

“Would you like me to wash your hair, too?” Napoleon wondered. 

“Yes,” Illya replied in a hush voice. It was softer than usual but still very Russian. Napoleon couldn’t think of a time he’d ever spoke to him in such a low murmur; it lacked its usual bite. 

Reaching across the tub, Napoleon grabbed the shampoo and poured some into his hand. He started gently rubbing it into Illya’s hair, massaging it down into his scalp and he thought he might hear the Russian start to pur. (It’s honestly the best sound Napoleon thought he’d ever heard.) Napoleon continued to wash Illya’s hair for what might be longer than necessary but the other seemed to be enjoying it so much he was having a hard time convincing himself it had been long enough. 

Eventually Napoleon had decided that Illya’s hair probably wouldn’t get much cleaner and figured it would be best to rinse the shampoo out and get him out of the bath. Now that the water had gone nearly cold, Napoleon was worried Illya would catch a chill if they didn’t hurry. 

“Lean back for me?” Napoleon requested gently. Illya was quick to oblige the other. He slid his body toward the opposite end of the tub so that Napoleon could rinse the soap from his hair. Thankfully the tub was long and wide, making it easier for the tall man to submerge himself into the water. While Illya’s head was beneath the water, Napoleon reached in and moved his hair around, helping to rinse away the suds from the Russian’s hair. 

Now that Napoleon had managed to properly rinse Illya clean, the smaller man stood the other up just like a child and helped wrap a warm bath robe around him. No words were exchanged and Napoleon was proud to say he could be around Illya naked without staring at his junk (for too long). Napoleon reached down and pulled the plug from the drain before heading into the main area of his hotel room. 

“My clothes….” Illya frowned, remembering he’d left all his belonging in the room he and Gaby shared. 

“Oh,” Napoleon croaked realizing the same thing Illya had. “I can call her? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind bringing over something for you or you could just wear something of mine?” The offer was genuine, of course, but was meant to be more of a joke than anything. 

“I will look like a child, Napoleon.” Illya said flatly. 

A smirk appeared on Napoleon’s face. “I realize,” he retorted coolly. 

Illya, however, didn’t find the idea funny at all. “Wipe away your smirk, Cowboy.”

“I’ll go get you something from your room. Be right back,” Napoleon announced making his way toward the door. 

Stopping outside of Gaby and Illya’s room, he knocked and waited for her to answer. It took longer than Napoleon had expected for the door to open.

“Where’s Illya?” Gaby implored immediately. 

“Back in my room,” Napoleon responded, stepping around her and heading toward where their suitcases were kept. 

“Alright then. What are you up to?” Gaby demanded following close behind Napoleon. 

“Getting him a change of clothes.” Following Napoleon’s reply, he gave her a pointed look, his way of quietly telling her to stop asking so many damn questions.

Gaby ignored the gesture and continued on unphased, “So he’ll be staying with you tonight then?”

Napoleon didn’t respond at first, he was too busy rummaging through Illya’s bag for some pajamas. 

“Let me,” Gaby urged, practically shoving Napoleon out of the way. “You’re making a mess.” Within moments, she was handing over an outfit for Illya to sleep in. 

Napoleon thanked her with a kiss on the cheek, gathering up the clothes and heading for the door once more. “Call you in the morning,” he promised as he shut the door behind him. 

Upon returning to his hotel room, he found Illya fast asleep, still in his bathrobe. 

“Illya,” Napoleon lulled prodding gently at the Russian’s side. 

Illya stirred, eyes barely opening to look at Napoleon. “What, Cowboy?”

“Your clothes?” Napoleon continued, showing them to the other. 

“Too tired,” Illya slurred sleepily.

“For God’s sake,” Napoleon grumbled, setting the clothes aside. “Guess that makes two of us.” He murmured stripping out of his own clothes and crawling into the other side of the bed. Finding his way under the covers, Napoleon did his best to tuck Illya in, even kissing him on the forehead (which he hadn’t really planned on but seemed appropriate.) Reaching over he shut off the light, whispering goodnight to the man beside him.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [tumblr](http://kgbcowboy.tumblr.com/). so many thanks to the incredible [bpdkuryakin](http://bpdkuryakin.tumblr.com/) who not only was my beta (and the best one at that) also helped to introduce me to this ship and is just an absolutely breathtaking person overall.


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